


These New York City Streets Get Colder

by Jo_busch_got_booty



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr - Freeform, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight, Thomas Jefferson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_busch_got_booty/pseuds/Jo_busch_got_booty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander doesn't understand snow etiquette, and Laurens is too amused watching him to correct him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These New York City Streets Get Colder

The meteorologists had given northeasterners plenty of warning about the blizzard. Families had stocked up on food, bottles of water. They’d pulled their cars into driveways and parking garages, and out of the way of the snowplows. In New Jersey, people stayed off the roads. No one knows how to drive in the snow in Jersey.

 

Instead of the usual, Alexander Hamilton stocked up on blankets, and quilts, and warm socks. He had a drawer full of sweatpants, and hoodies, and about three different winter jackets were hanging in the closet. He had tea bags, and instant coffee on the counter, a pile of notebooks on the coffee table. There was a shovel by the front door.

 

Alexander prepared for warmth, not sustenance. John was the one who had to remind him to grab canned foods from the store, cold medicine, Advil. He grabbed a couple gallon jugs of water in case their pipes froze, candles, a six-pack of flashlights. They had separated in the store, and when they came together, their carts were full of unsurprisingly different items.

 

“It’s so we don’t have to go out in the cold, Alex,” John explained. “Once we’re done shoveling, we can go inside and stay in there until it warms up some more.”  

 

“That’s why I bought so many blankets,” Alex countered, “after you’re done shoveling, you’re going to be freezing.”

 

“Yes, Alex, I’m aware,” John allowed. “But if we lose power, we need to keep ourselves warm, and we need lights, and water in case the pipes freeze, and if we lose power we lose our water heater, which is why we need batteries--”

 

“And  _ blankets. _ ”

 

They ended up buying all of the blankets.

 

The snow was two feet high in the lowest places. Some of the snow drifts came up to Alex’s hip, and he found himself waddling through their front lawn in a fervent search for their sidewalk.

 

Neither he nor John was used to the snow. Charleston rarely saw winter dip below forty degrees. He’d seen some snow in Europe. At least, he’d seen enough to know that Alex was going about the situation incorrectly, but for the time being, he was content watching from the safety of the porch as Alex tried to retrace his steps.

 

“I can’t even tell where the road is, John. Aren’t they supposed to come plow?” Alex’s voice was muffled by the scarf John had helped wrap around his neck. It peeked up from the neckline of his jacket and covered his mouth and nose.

 

“They did, actually,” John answered. He pressed a gloved hand to his mouth, covering part of his amused smile. “But it was still snowing up to ten minutes ago.”

“Why would anyone want to live like this?” Alex asked. “I mean, this weather is… choosing to live in it is just… masochistic. I can almost see why Jefferson spends as much time as he can in Virginia.”

 

“It’s not much warmer down there, Alex,” John replied. He didn’t bother pointing out that Alex chose to live here, too, and that he could just as easily go be a politician in California and nobody would be any wiser, but he kept his mouth shut. They might both freeze out there in the cold if John got Alex set on a rant. “But if I hear what you’re saying correctly, are you agreeing with Thomas Jefferson on something?”

 

Alex’s head shot up, his eyes alight with a challenge. “First of all, Thomas Jefferson was born to these horrific conditions,” he corrected. “If anything, I’m insinuating that he’s more of a coward for staying down south where it’s a whole five degrees warmer.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Second of all, it isn’t like he would know what the weather is like in Monticello, because he rarely spends any time in the country he represents,” Alex huffed, “Nothing against the French--”

 

“I’m sure Lafayette will be glad to hear that.”

 

“But if you’re going to make a commitment to your country, you should stay in your country for at least seven months out of the year, not take a vacation to Paris--” John noted that Alex pronounced  _ Paris  _ the French way. “Every chance you get.”

 

“So, to clarify,” John stated, “You are not agreeing with Thomas Jefferson.”

 

Alex held his gaze for a few, long seconds. “I am simply stating it’s warmer where he lives.”

 

“Of course.”

 

John watched Alex flounder around in the snow for a few more seconds before finally deciding to show him some mercy. “Why don’t you wait until the plow goes by again to start shoveling?” He suggested. “That way you can follow the road to find the sidewalk instead of standing out here until your legs freeze.”

 

“I don’t have time to wait for the plow,” Alex said simply. “You told me not to start working on my defense until after we shovel--”

 

“Because once you start working, you won’t stop.”

 

“And I really need to get this work done, I know I can prove Weeks innocent, I just need to draft out--”

“Alex, I know,” Laurens said. “I know you have a lot of work to do, and I’m sorry. You could call Burr and ask him to write out--”

 

“ _ Absolutely not!”  _ Laurens wasn’t even sure why he suggested it. “I said I would handle it, and I can handle it. That’s why I need to shovel  _ now  _ to maximize my work time.”

 

He took another step, and John was just about to warn him to be careful, because he was fairly close to the street, and it was likely the snow would be deeper there, but he was a moment too late.

 

Alex took a step, then another, and then he seemed to disappear. Where Alexander Hamilton had been standing was nothing but white. John let out a bark of laughter, then finally moved from his perch on the porch. He followed behind Alex by stepping on his footprints.

 

“Alex, you okay?” he called. There was a laugh in his voice he couldn’t disguise.

 

“I’ve fallen into Hell,” came the response. A hand shot out of the snow, then another. “God has abandoned us, and I’ve fallen right into Hell.”

 

“Hang on, don’t try to pull yourself out, you’ll just make it worse.” John grabbed Alexander’s arms, and steadied himself against the snow bank. And then, he tugged, staggering back a few steps as he managed to jangle Alex loose.

 

There was a cry of surprise from one of them, a yelp, and then John fell backward and he hadn't let go of Alex. Somehow, they end up knotted together, with John’s arm around Alexander’s back, and Alexander’s leg hooked around John’s knee. John’s hood slid off of his head, and his head landed in the snow.

 

They both lay there for a few seconds, winded. John stared up at the cloudy sky, Alexander buried his face in John’s shoulder.

 

“That was the opposite of helpful,” Alex decided.

 

“Would you have rather I’d left you there?”

 

Alex sighed. “I’d rather it be summer,” he corrected, lifting his head up to meet John’s eye. His face was flushed, and hair that had fallen from his ponytail stuck, wet, to his cheeks and forehead. Snow was plastered to the fur lining of his hoot. John reached up and batted it away.

 

“And then in the summer you’ll complain that it’s too hot,” John pointed out. “C’mon, get up so I’m not freezing down here.”

 

Alexander looked at him mischievously, and John couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease. “You’ll have to pay a toll first,” he decided. “It’s warmer on top of you than it is to touch the snow.”

 

“What kind of toll are we talking about here, Hamilton?” John asked, doing his best to feign annoyance.

 

“How about…” Alex pretended to mull it over, “A kiss?”

 

“Seems pretty steep,” John answered. “I just don’t know.”

 

“I think you can spare it.”

 

John thought it over. “Close your eyes,” he said finally, “and pucker up.”

 

Much to his surprise, Alex did as he was told. John formed a small snowball in the palm of his hand. He leaned in, his face just inches from Hamilton’s, and then…

 

John pressed the snow against Alex’s face, being careful not to get any up his boyfriend’s nose.

 

“Nyaaagh!” He pulled away from John abruptly, rubbing at his face in an attempt to warm it with his snowy gloves. John took the opportunity to bring himself to his feet and take a few, precious steps back.

 

He was flooded with worry, though, when he noticed Alex was hunched over more than the situation warranted. Guilty, he took an apologetic step forward, and he opened his mouth to make sure that Alex was okay when--

 

_ Splat. _

 

Cold revenge slapped John in the face, and all he could was gape, wide-mouthed at Alexander, whose face was contorted with a laugh.

 

“Oh,” John said, bending down and grabbing a handful of snow on his own, “You are so on, Hamilton.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> There's currently two feet of snow outside my house, and I spent most of today shoveling so I thought I might cheer myself up by writing something cute.


End file.
